[open]

[strove]

WHO: Clarke Griffin + anyone
WHERE: New Amsterdam
WHEN: The very end of November 2511 into December 2511
WHAT: Returning from a canon update, reintegrating.
NOTES OR WARNINGS: Likely references to loss of autonomy, death, bodysnatching without consent, and spoilers for the entirety of season 6 of The 100.

[Arriving back in New Amsterdam is a shock to Clarke's system. She wakes up in her bed—her bed. Not Josephine Lightbourne's. Her body. Not Josephine Lightbourne's. Whereas she has handled all of these complications back home, there's still a haziness in adjusting here. Two lives lived parallel. Whereas before, she had been certain that her life would be lonely, barely lived—her mind works to correct. To repair. To adjust. She can't adhere to notions that she held before. It will take time. Adjust. Adapt.

Adapt.

And do better. That's the one mantra that stays with her. Being here doesn't change that. Do better. Josephine had mocked that need, but that just tells Clarke that she was on the right track. That she is on the right track. Do better. So, she will.

Once Clarke has slept about a whole day to feel better, she takes some of her vital signs to make sure that she can manage being on her feet. It turns out that a good night of sleep was all she needed (and a good part of a day, at that). That's fine.

Otherwise? She has to acquaint herself with the city again. A cursory glance told her that she has a lot of reading to do. And a lot of seeing how things are in New Amsterdam proper. Clarke makes a to-do list:

a. get a new job. Giles Bell is surprisingly forgiving about her absence, but she tells them that she doesn't think it's the path she'd like to take. Having an evil scientist in her head really did a number on her, so she's willing to avoid too much science at the moment. She'll be hitting the streets to look for ideas.

b. Ask around about the animals that are getting into the city. Clarke hasn't seen any yet, but she knows they're around.

c. Check into travel to and from the city. This is for a future project, one important to all of the Displaced.

d. Start volunteering. She has enough medical training that she can do that. It's a place to start.

e. Otherwise, just be around for the first time since she came back inside of the walls after the EMP. She hadn't stuck around for long, either. Her disappearance was near immediate after she came back with Jyn and Prompto, vanishing before she even hit her apartment on her way home.

Clarke will look different. Her hair is more purposefully cut, and she starts to tend toward a darker wardrobe, with some splashes of red and blue where needed. She is older by six years, and carries herself in a way where someone may pick that up. But she's not exactly going to go around announcing it, not yet.

She has things that she has to do. A lot of things.]

[ooc: I'll also be putting prompts below! If you'd like a thread with Clarke, hit me up in PMs, on plurk @ medieval, or on Discord @ alison#8996.]

Comments

for Octavia

[strove]

[There is a lot that Clarke needs to do now that she's back. But getting in touch with Octavia is a priority. Once Clarke is feeling better, once she's able to start sorting out her life, she reaches out, sending a message to Octavia via text:]

I know about Blodreina.

[This may not be the strongest of openings, but Clarke knows that it has a place here. It's not something they spoke about before. That also contextualizes a lot of Octavia's anger toward her—and maybe toward herself. It's hard for Clarke to say, to really know. She doesn't bear the same resentment toward Octavia that Bellamy does. Even now, she struggles to fully grasp the depth of a relationship like theirs. The only two siblings to last this long from the Ark.

She adds on another message before too long:]

That's not all I know. I know about Sanctum. About the Primes and what they do to people.

I also know that, for me, you just helped save my life. I don't think you'll remember that, but I do. It means something.

[It means everything to Clarke. Bellamy, Octavia, and Gabriel all did everything they could. She knows Bellamy led the charge, but she's no less grateful toward the other two.]

I'd like to meet. There's a bar not far from the safehouse where we can talk. It gets loud around 8PM. We should have some privacy there.

[A location ping follows this message. Clarke hopes that Octavia shows up. If not, then she may have to hunt her down. It can't be that hard, right? But Clarke doesn't want this conversation to happen in the safehouse. It needs to be between them, with the freedom to leave the bar if it gets too tense.

As it is, she hits the bar around 7:30. The drink she takes mostly goes untouched as she sits in a corner, waiting. Clarke is careful not to watch the door too much, but does it just enough to send a signal that yes, she's not just here to skulk in a corner and drink alone. Someone is coming.]

[ex_dictator317]

[ Octavia's initial assumption isn't kind. It anticipates the worst, muscles tense in preparation of it, when she skims Clarke's first incoming — unexpected — message. I know about Blodreina, plain and simple — and threatening to uproot the trust Octavia has planted. The sparse compassion she's been granted. The second chance Clarke had believed they could find in this new and this new life.

If what follows is bribery, it does a damn good job of concealing it beneath understanding and gratitude. More than that, it softens itself with the illusion of choice — the illusion that entering that very bar is Octavia's decision, a contrast to the drug-induced compliance Clarke had taken advantage of.

There was never any choice but to appear, if only to determine what Clarke intends to do with the new information she has. If only to set the record straight, disbelieving and skeptical; whatever woman Clarke thinks she's encountered, it isn't the hero she paints Octavia to be.

Those days are gone. No one could look at her sins and think her worthy of absolution.

Her tardiness is more than a power play. Arriving at that bar half an hour after the time Clarke has designated speaks to her indecision, the waffling between acceptance and rejection, but she makes no note of it — hardly seems to have those reservations as she approaches, stiff and schooled — once she finds Clarke across the room. ]

You wanted to talk.

[ Clarke had been right. It's a boisterous environment. Octavia can already feel her voice straining to be heard. It's preferable, all the same, to have that buffer as she sinks down in the seat opposite of her and takes her in. New haircut — familiar. That solidifies, more than her words, that Clarke isn't entirely inventing this. ]

So let's talk.

[ It's not a friendly invitation, nor is it a polite approach, for how it gets straight to the point. No dallying, no how are you? to fill up the space. ]

[strove]

[By time Octavia finally gets there, Clarke has ordered a basket of French fries. They're warm—a sign that her patience had given out not too long ago, and the order took even longer to make its way to her. She pushes the basket forward. A small ramekin of ketchup accompanies it. There's no way for Clarke to really know what Octavia's had here. Her arrival hadn't been properly handled on Clarke's end, and as thus, neither was anything that followed.

She did a poor job of taking care of her people. Nothing new on her part, but it's also something that she can't just walk away from and pretend it didn't happen.]

Have some. They're good. [Clarke is buying time. It's not because she doesn't want to have this conversation, but because this conversation will be difficult. Talking to Octavia has always been difficult. Looking at her now, she can see the shade behind her eyes, a tension to her body that wasn't there when her eyes finally belonged to her again. Clarke can't guess what happened out there in the woods after Bellamy banished Octavia. What she does know is that she can't bring that about herself. She can't pretend that she can.

All she can do is call upon what she thinks Octavia might want to do. Ask for an alliance and see if they can work toward friendship. Perhaps Clarke can do better. Perhaps Clarke can earn that.]

I don't know how much you knew about the Primes before you got here. I don't know how much you want to know about things with Bellamy. [Clarke suspects that it's still raw, but it's hard for her to guess. To know.]

I'm willing to answer any questions about that, but first: I want to say I'm sorry. I say it a lot, so I'm trying this new thing where I make my actions agree with it. I just ask—well. Actually, it's kind of a long story ... [She huffs out a laugh.] But I know that no matter what I ask, you won't take anything I do. So I don't have a lot to ask. I just want to try.

[To do better. To answer to Monty: both the old man, and the subconscious version of Monty that she conjured up out of necessity. The one who let her know that she needed to live. Who reminded her, maybe indirectly, that he never wanted anyone to give up. Not Jasper. Not anyone else. That would be failure when it comes to Clarke Griffin, the person with an unstoppable will.]

I do, however, have something I'd like to work with you on. Something that I think ... we're uniquely suited to do together. [An olive branch of sorts. Something they can undoubtedly see eye to eye on. At least, that's what Clarke hopes.]

[ex_dictator317]

[ The mouthful of fry — better than she had expected, more flavorful than most of what she's been offered — is a fortunate barrier against any interjections. Octavia's expression twists with the need for it more than once, but it isn't until Clarke has broached her last topic that she manages to fully wash the bites she's taken down.

With Clarke's drink, no less. ]

It's hard to know anything when you've been banished.

[ Ostracizing her had been Bellamy's choice, but being left to the wilds and made to fend for herself hadn't been the most damaging blow. The bunker had prepared her for the worst of it, isolated without a true anchor — without allowing herself to lean on another as a pillar of strength — but nothing could have readied her for his refusal to acknowledge her as his own blood. As if she were a family secret to shame and hide away, just as she had been on the Ark.

For all that the injury remains, Clarke isn't the source of bitterness in her tone. Not now. If anything, it has found its target in Octavia, aware she's deserved every ounce of repulsion she's received. Speaking on the topic of Bellamy any further would be rubbing salt in the wound; she leaves Clarke's offer where her brother is unconcerned untouched, unwilling to hear it.

Afraid to acknowledge it when he isn't here. Gone, without a trace, as Rey had told her. It only sparks her paranoia again, makes her jaw shift as it leaps to the forefront of her mind. ]

You must be desperate if you're asking Blodreina for help.

[ And for a chance to do better, as if Octavia is a beacon for absolution, though she doesn't comment on it to either encourage or discourage it. Despite herself, she can't help the small part of her that hopes for Clarke's success in that endeavor. If even Clarke can absolve herself and receive forgiveness, then ...

She shakes it off. That would be too much to hope for. ]

[strove]

[If it were up to Clarke, Octavia wouldn't have been left out there. She was brought back for a reason, given a chance to be around people for a reason, and then forced to stay away. Clarke doesn't know how well she would have handled Sanctum. How would she take these people killing their own to only save themselves—and literally no one else? Odds are that it would look bad to her. Worse than Clarke did when she killed one of Madi's followers point blank, knowing that Lexa was there, whispering names into her ear.

But that's the thing. She can't be that person. That isn't doing better. What is? It's a hard measurement. All she can really do now is try.]

I'll fill you in on everything. [It's a promise. No need to keep Octavia in the dark, to leverage any of that. If she's been spending time with Gabriel, she ends up knowing the truth of it all anyway.]

But that can come later. For now—yes. I do need Blodreina's help. [No, she thinks about that. Shakes her head.] I need Octavia Blake's help.

[A beat. She nudges the fries closer to Octavia, indicating that she can have the rest. If they need more, she can order more.]

Two quick things. First, a couple months ago, we were thrown into these dreams where we had the chance to impact reality. None of us could figure out why we could. And then, before I left, I learned that the power inside us may be ... godlike. I wouldn't believe it if I hadn't seen the changes we made. Seen what we could do. Now, you'll remember—we learned this world was dying. Is dying. It may be happening even quicker. But if I'm thinking about this correctly, we might have the power to save this world. To rewrite that wrong. [A beat.] To do what we couldn't do before, three times over.

[They weren't even alive the first time the Earth died. But the second? The third? Clarke was hopeless, helpless. Unable to do much of anything. She even recognizes that she exposed her people to that when she let Bellamy past her, when she destroyed the City of Light, when she first stole the bunker and messed everything up, making it so that she could rip away that hope once and for all.]

for Caroline

[strove]

[Clarke doesn't mean to run into Caroline, but run into her she does. While Clarke is scoping out an event center that's meant to hold another charity event to make up for the losses from the EMP disaster, she runs into Caroline. It's simple. Clarke wants to do some volunteering. Wants to offer an extra hand. Wants to make sure they have someone there who can help, but maybe doesn't have all the training as needed. That's something she can get.

It doesn't surprise her to see Caroline there. It's apparent that Caroline is more of a low level employee with these events, but that doesn't keep her from being chirpy and involved. The pieces fall together for Clarke: events. Committees. Do what she can with them. It makes sense.

Clarke's back straightens as her head draws up, pulling a few strands of hair out of her face at the same time. Her hair isn't a different length, but it's a decidedly different style. Cleaner, more intentional in its appearance. She nods toward Caroline, meeting her eyes. It's clear she's busy, but Clarke heads somewhere to sit—and to wait, checking back every few seconds to see that Caroline will see where she's gone.

And then she brings up a book and begins to keep herself busy while waiting.]

[gasping]

[ clarke has, as per usual, questionably good timing. it's caroline's first week back to work after her own disappearance, and this event is one of the first she's been able to really dig her teeth into. (metaphorically speaking.) she's grateful to have the mental distraction, something to think about that isn't memories of being smacked around or the echo of marcos' terrified scream in her head, and so it's with all of her attention that caroline throws herself into the process. chatting up vendors, measuring spaces, putting together layouts for booths and tables and seating spaces; it's all one and the same in her to-do list of get it done.

it's not until a while later — an hour, maybe, though caroline doesn't take much stock of the time — before she manages to extract herself, taking a late lunch break in order to follow clarke to the cafe next door, where there are plenty of tables and chairs available both indoors and out. clarke might be satisfied with just whatever she has on her implant to keep her busy, but caroline is on her lunch break... so by the time she settles in the chair opposite, it's with the gift of two muffins set down on the table between them, and a compliment easily given. ]

I like your haircut.

[ because, well, it suits her. it's a nice look. she looks... more like herself, in a way. more certain. ]

[strove]

Thanks. I had some help with it. [Only after she draws the muffin close does Clarke realize that this may not make a whole lot of sense if someone isn't aware that she went home. The last thing Clarke expects is that someone would know. She doesn't like when people spend a lot of energy talking about her—especially given the uncomfortable and constant reflection of how it's similar to things back home.]

I went home for a while, apparently. It doesn't feel like that, but I did. [Coming back, her hair is no longer, but it's cut as if it's intentional. Madi had helped. Knowing Madi can't be a part of her life here is difficult. But that doesn't keep Clarke's goals in check. Some part of her still wants to help this world be better. Be something.

It's only now that those ideas are starting to formulate properly in her head. That means she does both the little and the big.]

I heard—well. I saw that things weren't any easier for you while I was gone. Are you holding up okay? [She starts to break up the muffin to stick a small piece in her mouth, eyes on Caroline and very curious.]

[gasping]

[ caroline didn't know — but then, caroline had been busy with other things. things that, apparently, clarke already knows about. caroline hasn't found her way back through the network far enough to spot prompto's post, and nobody thus far has really addressed her disappearance from the safehouse, so clarke's own awareness of it takes it by surprise.

especially since the other girl had apparently also had other things going on. ]

What do you mean, you saw?

[ she's aware, to some extent, of the messages she sent back and forth with people like jyn and klaus. prompto hadn't replied to her, and neither had hope; she hadn't had time or the sense of self in the aftermath to go back and investigate what had set off all those unread messages notifications at the time. their worry was the furthest thing from her mind then. ]

But you said you went home. [ a beat. ] Are you okay?

for Kovacs

[strove]

[Reaching out to Kovacs is more difficult than she'd like to admit. When she had learned about the stacks before, it had been more theoretical to her. A concept that she had a hard time wrapping her head around. It was so close to the Flame—to the keys to the City of Light—and yet, at the same time, not. Not close at all. Different.

Now it's less theoretical. Now she's felt what it's like to have someone rip away her life, her body. It's a violation, and one that she needs to deal with head on now that she's returned. Clarke recalls her time with Kovacs during the EMP. His different way of carrying himself. Of talking. Do they really wipe who was there before, or is it like what she experienced at one time?

Either way, to contend with it, she has to reach out to Kovacs. A burgeoning friendship. But she's conflicted. At least it doesn't seem like his society worships people with stacks like they're gods. That's a leg up on the Primes and the messed up things they're doing. Maybe even two legs up.

Her message to him is short, succinct:]

Turns out someone did create a one for one equivalent of the stacks in my world. Meet me soon?

[True to Clarke's everything, she follows the message with a location ping and a calendar invite for a time. The next few days at a dive bar at seven PM. It's a different bar from the one she gives Octavia, simply because she's covering her bases—and also doing work in various areas. The meetings don't overlap, of course. Clarke may be a weird mix of chaotic and a control freak, but the chaos never leads her to be any less than meticulous at times. (Just never as meticulous as Josephine Lightbourne. That's a good thing.)

But much like her meeting with Octavia, Clarke takes to skulking at the edge of a bar with a beer at hand, sitting while looking out over the city. It's still in ruins. But it can be made better in time. Clarke has to believe that.]

[resleeves]

[ it's not a message he's exactly expecting to get so he's mildly surprised when it comes in. had he noticed her lack of presence? yes. would he admit that? probably not but it looks like it had been temporary, lucky for her.

her message is intriguing as well, piquing his interest enough that he does make his way down to the bar at one of the times she says she'll be there. it takes him a minute to spot her and once he does, he takes the seat beside her silently, orders a drink, and then glances over at her. ]

Welcome back.

[ his own allowed pleasantry. ]

Guessing that wasn't a planned trip?

[strove]

Not particularly. [Perhaps the only saving grace of her absence is that things were too messed up for anyone to worry about her. Clarke had set down some lines while she was gone. She's glad no one appears to have had awkward conversations about her absence, but it's hard for her to really tell. She's reading back, but touching on the surface. Nothing deeper.

(It's very Clarke to assume that no one would worry about her. Very, very Clarke.)]

Some of it wasn't so bad. [A brief, warm smile. Madi comes to mind. Always Madi.] The rest—well. It's why I wanted to speak to you. [Her hand goes to the back of her neck, fingers running along a different surgical scar. There are two back there now: one for the neural implant that remains, and one for the mind drive that's been taken away.]

[resleeves]

All right.

[ he grabs his newly delivered drink and turns his body a little more towards hers. ]

I'm all ears. You're obviously alive so no one ran you through with some fucking sword. Unless you got better and if that's the case, congratulations on the resurrection.

[ he knows what that feels like. ]

This about what you said to me on your message? About you having something like a stack where you're from?

for Jyn

[strove]

[Ah, the animals. The golden-eyed animals that keep coming into the city and dying. Some of them are malevolent, while others just take to the parks. Curious—and worried, since some of them were rather violent on Jyn, Prompto, and Clarke's day trip—she takes to the parks to see if she can spot one.

Needless to say, it doesn't surprise her when she spots Jyn at one of them. Is she looking for the creatures, too? Or is she just here? Armed with her sketchbook—which is now sorely out of date, lacking any of the art from after she met Madi—she approaches the other woman, crouching down next to her near a tree.]

Looking for our furry friends or do you just like parks? [A beat. A cant of her head.] I guess it could just as easily be both of them.

[That's one way to announce her return. "Hi, Jyn. No, turning into a monster for a few seconds didn't disappear me for good." The words don't come, but a rueful smile forms, all but declaring that sentiment just the same.]

[realists]

[ jyn is, frankly, a bad friend. despite the chaos they managed to survive, jyn didn't bother checking in on prompto or clarke. if anything happened to prompto she knew daisy would know because she is something like his inappropriately youthful mum, but clarke, well. clarke can take care of herself, that much was certain.

and jyn is a crappy person who is still learning how to navigate relationships after so long purposefully avoiding them. ]

Both.

[ most days she eats her lunch in the park because she gets antsy being cooped up for too long, some by product of prison like her perpetual long sleeves no matter the weather or maybe she appreciates fresh air that much. either way, she is sat under a tree with a half eaten cookie on her knee. ]

They don't last long, the animals.

[strove]

[Meanwhile, Jyn's "bad friend" belief doesn't hold for Clarke. The fact that her return isn't trumpeted is a good thing for her. It's also reflective of her actions, her disposition. How she approached this world before. While she saw it as a future home, she also was divided. Unsure about how to approach it. Her uncertainty is far less present now.]

The parks are nice. I wish there were more, but I guess they make do with what they have. [All around this particular park, there are lots of little trees that are being planted: a sign of Jovavich's willingness to take Jyn's advice. Clarke doesn't know the source. She's just glad there are more trees on the way.

She shifts her position, sitting back.]

I wonder why the animals don't last. I mean, some of them didn't out there, but you'd think they'd—I don't know. That they wouldn't risk coming here. Not after what's happened. [Or maybe what's happened has messed up the ecosystem so much that they can't help it.

Thing that Clarke still isn't: an environmental scientist.]

[realists]

[ the saplings are very precious to jyn. they are her tree babies. ]

They might not know any better. I read about these things called turtles-- [ such an innocuous word to sound foreign ] --and when they're just born they know to follow the moon to the water, whatever ties these golden eyed creatures together could have given them the same biological imperative and not... adjusted for the state of the world.

[ maybe. she genuinely doesn't know so any guess is as good as the rest.

she gestures at clarke's sketchpad ]. Is that a book?

[ paper is relatively rare in space, only the oldest and most important books were preserved and jyn had heard of libraries with physical books but she'd never actually seen one in person, all of her books and correspondence had been via datapad or holocubes. ]

for Eugenides | cat pictures linked by request!

[strove]

[Clarke doesn't announce her return. That's because she feels pretty terrible. Instead of walking out into the rest of their apartment to let Eugenides know that she's here, she sleeps. It really is around twenty hours before she wakes up. It's even longer before she heads into the rest of the apartment.

But she does do precisely that in time, stopping off to take a quick shower before going to Eugenides' room to knock on the door. It's a quick rasp of her knuckles, but he can probably guess what's going on. There aren't many people who can just appear in a bed.

At the moment, her hair is still wet, but she wears a black tank top with a pair of jeans. It's the closest to what she finds adequate now, to what she enjoys wearing. It's something—more importantly, it's her. Clarke doesn't know how she'll ever explain what happened to her.

Or whether it's even a good idea that she does in the first place.]

it was an important request

[kleptocratic]

You can come in.

[ Back home, he'd slept with a knife under his pillow. He doesn't have such security here. Or that many pillows. Whatever emotion is in his voice is muffled through the walls. If she's been listening long, she might have heard him come into the apartment a few hours ago. He hadn't used the door. ]

It isn't locked.

[strove]

[That's the thing: she hadn't been listening carefully. Clarke half expects him to look like he's waking up from a nap, because she had managed to hear that he was there. When she opens the door and it doesn't seem like that's the case, her eyebrows raise, passing over his room.

An idle thought: how much of this was stolen?

But it's not one she voices.]

As you can see, I'm back. [Clarke wonders how observant Eugenides is when he tries, eyes moving to meet his soon after her statement. Would he be able to tell that she's older? That she holds herself differently? That her very, very long sleep in her room had been needed after she woke up?]

I assume you've managed okay in my absence? [A light smile eases its way across her lips. Curious.]

[kleptocratic]

[ Eugenides is very observant even when he isn't trying. But he has a swordsman's eye, and some of the things he's trained to notice don't have much relevance here. ]

I am an adult.

[ He sounds like a brat when he says that. He has no way of not sounding like a brat. His eyes narrow as he looks at her, though he otherwise doesn't move. ]

How many years has it been?

[ Years is a guess— there are things that can change a person in less time. Eugenides had to grew up in one awful leap. Still. He thinks it's a good guess. ]

e.

[tribridfreakshow]

[Hope hasn't seen her since the day they'd both ended up wearing the same innocent woman's blood as they helped her get medical attention. While the most obvious physical differences are striking, she doesn't entirely realize what's happened, having not had previous experience with anyone she knew leaving and coming back older since her arrival.

All she knows is that she hasn't seen her in a bit and something's...different, even if she doesn't yet know the other woman well enough to quite figure out what it is.

She lifts a hand in greeting.]

Hey.

[It's a weak hello, perhaps, but she's still trying to figure out this whole 'make friends' thing. After years and years of isolation, habits were hard to break.]

[strove]

[The good news? They did manage to get that woman to the hospital. They didn't die. Yes, Clarke ended up buckling under the stress and took off from the city, but they had managed to save a life. That means seeing Hope is a good thing.

Then again, she'd be a good face to see regardless. Clarke is fond of her. Maybe it's because, deep down, Clarke and Hope aren't that different. Clever and precocious, with decidedly shitty lives. (Not that they've really had the opportunity to compare notes.)]

Hey. How've you been holding up? I've been ... missing for a while. [Longer by her measurements than anyone else's. That's the complication of it all.]

[tribridfreakshow]

[Maybe the opportunity would come sometime soon now that she wasn't brand new and the city wasn't in immediate danger of falling apart?

One could certainly hope.]

I've been okay. Once we got Caroline back, anyway. [She sighs.] That was a mess.

[She tilts her head slightly, looking concerned.]

Yeah, I noticed. Eventually, anyway. [People didn't always stop by the safehouse and Hope didn't get out a ton. Even then, it was a big city.] You seem...different. Are you okay?

[strove]

Hopefully it's not a bad kind of different. [Clarke says it to lighten the mood a bit, but realizes that it comes terribly close to something Josephine might say. Of course, Clarke would never put it out there in Josephine's tone, but the thought occurs to her just the same.]

But I am, and I'm good. [She's alive. She's no longer being taken over by a sociopath. It's a low bar to clear, but she's clearing it. That matters most.]

Just ... older. A few years passed.